


Definitely Not A Real Person

by beckzorz (heckofabecca)



Series: perceptive bi admin [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Conspiracy Theories, Gen, Light Swearing, job tip: google yourself BEFORE you apply to jobs, just so you know what people will see, no canon characters appear but they are discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/beckzorz
Summary: Natalie Rushman is definitely, absolutely, assuredly NOT a real person.Or, three admins get drinks after work and talk about their job. Set during Iron Man 2.





	Definitely Not A Real Person

**Author's Note:**

> This idea sparked because for god's sake, Natalie Rushman is too damn impressive on paper. Just saying. I had a lot of fun writing this :) Hope you enjoy!

“Becky, over here!” Liz leaned over and waved from her seat.

Mike came back to their tiny table with three drinks balanced expertly. Becky stuck her purse under the table and slid into a seat with a relieved sigh.

“Perfect timing, Beck,” he said in greeting. “Cider for Liz, lice tea for you—”

“Oh come on, Mike,” Becky said, rolling her eyes. She nursed her drink protectively. “There is nothing wrong with Long Island iced tea.”

“Sure there is,” Liz said. She took an exaggerated sniff of her cider and smacked her lips. “This smells delicious. _That_ smells like astringent.”

“Piss off,” Becky grumbled. She shook back her long straight hair and picked up her drink. “It’s not any worse than what Mike gets.”

Liz snorted and eyed Mike’s beer. “Fair. Very fair. There is nothing worse than beer.”

“Murder,” Mike said. “Murder is worse than beer. And I’ll drink to us _not_ killing each other over our beverage choices.” He raised his glass and chugged almost half of it in one go.

“Shit, man! Chill, we’ve got time,” Becky said. She took a (comparatively) delicate sip.

Liz sat back in her chair and stretched her legs as best she could between the table legs and her friends’ feet. “Are we eating here? If not I do want to get out of here sooner rather than later. I’ve got dance practice tonight.”

“Oh, right,” Mike said. “I don’t mind. You, Becky?”

Becky shrugged. “I’ll hang out, but I’ve got leftovers in the fridge.”

Liz let out a little huff. “Is it a bad time for me to go on my rant against private universities?”

“It’s _always_ a bad time for that, Liz.” Becky grimaced. “And trust me, we’ve heard it before.”

“But it’s so insidious! People tell you that sort of BS _matters_ , and then you end up with a degree that only gets you 40K a year in a dead-end admin job and about a million bucks in debt—”

“Oh my god, Liz, _we know_ ,” Becky said. She flicked her finger against Liz’s forehead. “Use your ears!”

“Yes, mom,” Liz said. “Fine, fine, I’ll treat you to dinner and you can use your leftovers tomorrow. Fair?”

“Apology accepted!” Becky said happily.

Liz flagged down a waiter and ordered for all three, with just a tiny glance to check she’d chosen right. They’d been here so often she knew exactly what Mike and Becky liked, although she always found it hard to believe that Mike could exist on wings alone. He was so tall. Then again, she always just got mozzarella sticks. Becky, the only sensible eater, got fish and chips. Sensible Becky.

“In other news,” Mike said, having finished two-thirds of his beer, “can we talk about the new girl in legal?”

“Natalie?” Liz said immediately, perking up. “Ooh, _let’s_.”

“That’s the redhead, right?” Becky asked.

“Yes,” Liz sighed. She slid a little in her chair and bit her lip. “She’s gorgeous. I don’t know if I want to kiss her or be her. Both, I guess.”

Becky laughed. “Liz, oh my god. She’s not _that_ hot.”

“Yes she is, Becky,” Mike said. He turned to Liz. “Have you actually talked to her?”

“What? No, of course not,” Liz said, eyebrows raised. “Are you kidding?

“Wait, so you’ll talk about her behind her back but you won’t even say hello?” Becky slapped the table. “You are so ridiculous!”

“I mean I’ve said hi,” Liz said, cheeks pink. “We haven’t, like, had a conversation though. What on earth would I even say? ‘I like your face’ is kind of a nonstarter.”

“You really need to work on your game,” Mike said, not unkindly.

Liz stuck her tongue out at him. “Whatever, man. Besides, she’s not into girls. Well, actually I’m not sure. But she’s not there for us. She’s there for Mr. Stark.”

“Wow, that’s a reach if ever there was one.” Becky swirled her drink, smirking. “You’ve never spoken to her, but you know she’s just there to sleep with the owner?”

“Not the owner anymore,” Mike corrected. “Miss Potts did the paperwork with him today.”

“Whatever,” Becky said. “Former owner, then.”

“Not for _fucking_ ,” Liz said, exasperated. “I don’t know what she’s there for. But Natalie Rushman is definitely _not_ a real person.”

Mike and Becky looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“What! Oh, Liz, you are _reaching!_ ” Becky crowed. Her shoulders shook as she laughed. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, as if to block tears. “Oh, sweetie. You need another hobby. Dancing isn’t cutting it.”

“I’ve touched her,” Mike added. “Shaken hands. She’s solid, I swear.”

Liz crossed her arms and sat back in her chair with a frown. “I didn’t mean that she doesn’t _exist_ , you fuckwits. Obviously she exists! But have you googled her?”

“Isn’t that a bit of an invasion of privacy?” Mike asked.

“Um, it’s the internet,” Liz said. “Nothing’s private there. Besides, I happen to know that managers uses it to check out candidates. If they do it, why shouldn’t I?”

“Haha, _check out_.” Mike grinned and raised his glass to Liz. “Nice.”

Becky waved that aside. “It’s just rude, Liz. Did you google me?”

“No, but you facebook friended me first so I didn’t have to,” Liz said.

“Oh, of course,” Becky said, rolling her eyes yet again. “That explains everything.”

“It does,” Liz insisted. She tugged a hand through her shoulder-length hair. “But the point is. Look. I googled her. She’s not… she’s too damn qualified! I know kids like her. Speak five languages, top-notch school—she shouldn’t be working for legal, she should have her own damn company by now! Hell, she should have had her own company by fifteen. And now she’s angling to replace Ms. Potts as Mr. Stark’s PA?” Liz shook her head. “Not normal, guys.”

“Maybe she wants more experience before she starts Rushman Enterprises,” Becky said. “Or maybe she’s saddled with like a million in student debt—”

“Oh! I forgot,” Liz interrupted. “She did underwear modeling in Japan. That’s on google too.”

Becky stopped talking, her mouth open. Mike’s eyes bugged out.

“What?! Seriously?” he gasped. “Oh my god… Oh man, I should absolutely _not_ look at shirtless pictures of my colleagues but boy do I want to.”

“Exactly! It’s like she was custom-built to impress Tony Stark,” Liz said. She splayed her hands on the table and leaned it. “Tony Stark is _exactly_ the kind of guy who googles prospective employees. And you know what he’ll find?”

“God, I wish I did but I really shouldn’t,” Mike said with a sigh.

“Underwear model Natalie Rushman?” Becky asked flatly.

“Exactly.” Liz sat back triumphantly.

They all sat quietly for a minute, digesting and working on their drinks (Mike on his second beer), and before anyone spoke again their food showed up. Liz dunked a mozzarella stick into sauce. She bit in and immediately started to twitch, breathing heavily through her nose.

“It’s always too hot for you,” Mike teased. “Delicate flower.”

“Hop ip,” Liz mumbled. She chewed, swallowed, and repeated herself. “Stop it. Not my fault I’m an eager eater. Protein is good!”

“Cholesterol too, huh?” Mike munched on his celery with a cheeky grin.

“I didn’t say that,” Liz retorted. “But these are very filling. Not like your water strings. Blech.”

“That… really doesn’t settle it though,” Becky said. She jabbed a fry towards Liz, who quirked her eyebrows. “Just because someone hits all the buttons doesn’t make them fake.”

Liz’s round eyes lit up. “Sure, of course not. But when they’re Tony Stark—”

“He’s not _that_ big a deal,” Becky said.

“Becky, he’s a literal superhero,” Mike said. “He’s a really fucking big deal.”

“Yeah, well, he practically lets it all hang out. And if someone just wanted to get at him for a roll in the hay—”

“Oh my, how quaint,” Mike said.

“Listen,” Becky said, gritting her teeth. “Natalie seems nice and… competent. If you think she’s tailor-made for Mr. Stark, it just means she’s a good match. Anyway, she’s just in legal. There’s no guarantee she’ll actually get a job directly with Mr. Stark.”

“I’m preeeeeetty sure she will,” Liz said. “Tony Stark is a rich white guy with a lot of guns. He gets what he wants.”

Silence descended for a moment as the others contemplated this. Mike’s next bite of celery was loud by comparison, even with the noise of the tv and all the other patrons around them. Liz took a slow sip of cider, looking at the others over the rim of her glass.

Becky shuddered suddenly. “God, I’m so glad I was never an underwear model. Can you imagine trying to run that guy’s life?”

“Sadly, yes,” Liz said wearily.

“God no,” Mike said. He shook his head. “It’s hard enough dealing with our boss. Forget the boss’s boss’s boss’s boss.”

Liz looked to the dim ceiling as she counted on her fingers. “Boss, boss, boss… Yeah okay, that sounds right.”

“Liz,” Becky said, “do you _really_ think Natalie’s a fake?”

“I know I’m pretty bad at indicating sarcasm, but I’m not _that_ bad. You would’ve gotten the hint by now.” Liz tucked her hair behind her ears. “I don’t care that much, though. I’m perfectly happy just to sigh over her hot bod. Anyway, I’m pretty sure dealing with the implications of it are above my pay grade.”

Becky snorted. “I think your conspiracy theory is ridiculous, but yes. Yes it is.”

“Sometimes I think our job is above our pay grade,” Mike said. He waggled a chewed wingbone at Liz. “Just so long as nothing blows up, we should be fine.”

Liz guzzled the last of her cider. “Should be,” she said. “Should be.”


End file.
